


'til kingdom come

by groundopenwide



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundopenwide/pseuds/groundopenwide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He's spent an inordinate amount of time wondering just what it is about Sebastian that makes him feel so at ease, and the answer has been sitting right in front of him the entire time. He was real around Blaine, and Blaine was real around him in return.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	'til kingdom come

_The wheels just keep on turning,_  
_The drummer begins to drum,_  
_I don't know which way I'm going,_  
_I don't know which way I've come._

*

It starts after Sectionals, after Marley's scare and the New Directions' loss and the phone call from Kurt. Blaine is sitting cross-legged on his bed and attempting to do his trigonometry homework the next day, Friday, following an awkward makeshift Thanksgiving dinner with his parents that's just a day too late. He's trying to figure out where he shoved his unit circle since he hasn't quite memorized what the cosine of pi over four is yet, when suddenly, his phone buzzes on the nightstand next to him. Fumbling to push his papers out of the way, Blaine leans over and reaches for the device, his brows furrowing at the sight that greets him.

_Text Message: Sebastian Smythe_

He hasn't spoken to the other boy since his visit to Dalton, since the impromptu song with the Warblers and the  _no thanks_  he left behind after rescuing the New Directions' Nationals trophy. As much as it kills him to admit, the whole ordeal has left a part of Blaine aching for the familiarity of his old school, for the security and the  _acceptance._  It's not that he doesn't feel accepted at McKinley, it's just...McKinley was  _Kurt's._  Most of Blaine's current friends there were  _Kurt's_  first. He knows it sounds petty, but Dalton was his, and he misses that feeling.

Forcing down the abrupt twist in his stomach, Blaine unlocks his phone and narrows his eyes down at the message that blinks up at him.

_Is your friend okay?_

The question is so out-of-the-blue that Blaine finds himself doing a double take before typing a response.

_Yeah, she's fine. We had to take her to the hospital since she was dehydrated and all, but she's recovering alright._

_That's good to hear. I'm sorry you guys didn't even get a chance to finish._

_No big deal. The Warblers would have won anyway. You guys were great._

_You don't know that. But thanks._

It feels like one of their earlier conversations, back when the two of them had first met. Before Sebastian had been introduced to Kurt and made it his life goal to sabotage the New Directions, before he had forced Blaine to reevaluate his opinion of him. They had texted back and forth for a few weeks after first talking at Dalton, and Blaine might have even called them friends.

That was before, though.

Now, he's not sure where they stand. Sure, Sebastian claims to have changed for the better, but can Blaine really believe that? The boy had almost blinded him, and tried to steal him away from his boyfriend. It's understandable for him to be hesitant. Still, there's a part of him that's always been drawn to Sebastian, though for what reasons, he isn't too sure. That thought in mind, Blaine brings his cell phone closer to his chest and decides to continue the conversation, his math homework currently forgotten.

_I do know it. I'm not sure when so many of the guys learned to do back flips, but it was kind of awesome._

_Ha, yeah. Hunter's sort of...intense. He demanded all the gymnastic-esque choreography and what not._

_Well, it paid off, didn't it?_

_I suppose. What are you doing?_

Sinking back against his pillows, Blaine pushes his textbooks out of the way and crosses his feet at the ankles before glancing minutely at his closed door.

_Avoiding my parents by attempting to finish my homework. It's not going so well._

_Which part? The avoiding or the homework doing?_

A knock at the door startles Blaine out of his thoughts, and he quickly fires off a reply before tossing his phone onto his bed and making his way to turn the lock. He pats a hand across his hair in a futile effort to calm it down and forces his shoulders back before clutching the knob and pulling the door open, the hard gaze of his father greeting him as he pokes his head out.

"Hi, dad," he mumbles, opening the door a fraction further. His father's expression doesn't change as he scans his eyes down Blaine's disheveled form, lips pursed.

"Your mother needs help with the dishes," he states simply before turning to head back down the stairs.

"I was actually trying to get some homework done—"

"Blaine, go help your mother. Now."

That's it. There's no room for argument, no chance to snark back or slam the door in his father's face, because he's already around the corner, the floorboards creaking beneath his heavy footsteps. Blaine sighs and shoots a look over at where his phone is abandoned atop his bedspread before bracing himself and slowly exiting his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Such a loving family he has.

*

The next few weeks are a blur of studying and last-minute assignments as final exams approach, and Blaine welcomes the excuse to stay holed up inside the majority of the time. He spends hours dedicated to memorizing the unit circle and going over vocab for his econ class, and when the days arrive for the actual tests, he passes easily. The bell that signals the end of his last exam ignites both a sense of excitement and dread within him; excitement at having the next three weeks free to do whatever he pleases, but dread at the thought of being stuck with his parents for that time. He knows that they'll inevitably be making the trip to Westerville to spend Christmas with his aunt and uncle, but hopefully he can make up some excuse about visiting the Warblers to steal a few hours away from the judgment and the pointed looks.

He's trying to stay positive, here.

No more than a few minutes after he says goodbye to Tina and Artie and makes his way out of the building, his phone begins ringing in his pocket, and he carefully slips it out and hits the answer button without glancing at the screen to see who it is.

"Hello?"

"Freedom at last, huh, Killer? For a few weeks, anyway."

 _Sebastian._  Blaine finds himself chuckling despite himself as he adjusts his satchel to rest higher up on his shoulder.

"It's better than nothing. I think I need a break."

"We all do," is the boy's reply, and Blaine can practically hear his smile through the phone. He finds himself smiling, too. "Unfortunately for me, Hunter's scheduled daily afternoon rehearsals all through break. Says we need to 'man up' if we're going to win Regionals in February. I swear, he's more of a drill sergeant than a captain sometimes."

At that, Blaine releases a quiet laugh. "He did go to military school, didn't he?"

"Still, it's show choir, not the Navy SEALS," Sebastian argues. Blaine laughs again and tucks his phone closer to his ear as he approaches his car, unlocking it and depositing his bag in the backseat before climbing in.

"So, did you just call me to complain about your sorry life, or was there something in particular you wanted?" He asks as he sticks the keys into the ignition. The car rumbles to life beneath him, nearly muting Sebastian's reply and causing Blaine to have to get him to repeat himself.

"I said, now that we are officially free until January and most of my fellow schoolmates have headed home for the holidays, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out or something. It's horribly boring in this large brick prison all by myself."

For some reason, Blaine finds his thoughts lingering over the question as he bites down on his bottom lip. Does he want to hang out with Sebastian? Yes, no doubt. The boy is interesting and has a good sense of humor, when he's not being an utter douche.  _Should_  he hang out with Sebastian, though? He's not sure if it's the best idea. Getting lost in his own indecision, Blaine almost misses when Sebastian calls his name out into the phone, voice lilting in curiosity.

"Anderson? I didn't scare you off, did I?"

"No, no, I just got distracted. Sorry," Blaine mutters, taking a deep breath as he thinks,  _why not?_ "But sure, yeah, we can hang out. Where should we meet up?"

Sebastian responds with something about the Lima Bean at two thirty, and Blaine carefully agrees before hanging up. It's currently just after noon, which means he has a few hours to kill before he can head over to the coffee shop. It's slightly depressing that he almost automatically knows he'll spend the next two hours stressing over the meeting that's to come.

*

At exactly two thirty on the dot, Blaine somewhat nervously makes his way into the Lima Bean, the bell above the door ringing out his arrival. He spots Sebastian already seated at a table in the corner, two cups set in front of him while he scribbles something furiously onto a napkin. Blaine tilts his head at the sight, curiosity slightly piqued, before making his way over and dropping down into the chair across from the other boy.

Sebastian's head lifts as Blaine clears his throat to announce his presence, and he can't help but notice the way the other boy's too-long hair now falls into his eyes, forcing him to brush it back with his fingers as he grins across the table at Blaine. It seems as if everything about Sebastian is different now, both looks and personality wise. The realization leaves Blaine feeling even more unsettled than before. The Sebastian that made inappropriate jokes and acted like a jerk 24/7 was something he knew how to handle. This version of Sebastian, on the other hand, is so startling and hard to peg down that Blaine finds himself often questioning his own actions. It's not that Blaine doesn't  _like_  this 'new' Sebastian, he's just...so used to always being on guard around the other boy that he doesn't know how to act anymore. They weren't friends before, much closer to enemies, and now, he has no idea where they stand.

"Hey," Sebastian murmurs finally, pushing one of the two steaming cups across the table with a small smile. "Medium drip, right? I wasn't sure if you'd changed your coffee order since the last time we were here, so I ordered it anyway."

Blaine's...flattered, for a second, by the fact that even after everything, Sebastian has still managed to remember something as unimportant as his coffee order. It diminishes his nerves somewhat, and he offers a grateful smile as he takes the cup.

"Yeah. Thanks."

The surprise must reflect in his voice, because Sebastian chuckles for a moment before shaking his head. "You've just always been rather predictable, played things safe. Even if I hadn't remembered, a medium drip would be the logical choice."

Blaine raises a brow at the other boy over the rim of his cup as he takes a sip before mumbling, "I'm not predictable."

"Stubborn, too," Sebastian observes, a hint of a playful grin tugging at his lips. Blaine huffs as he sets the cup back down, tracing the side of it absently with his thumb.

"Shut up," he replies good-naturedly, before nodding towards the pen in the boy's hand. "What are you writing?"

"Oh, this? Nothing," Sebastian replies quickly, seeming to remember the napkin in front of him and wadding it up to shove into his pocket. "I was just killing time until you showed up. Nice punctuality, by the way."

"It was two thirty exactly! Don't give me that."

A laugh escapes Sebastian, and the sound causes something warm to unfurl in Blaine's chest. "I know, I know. Relax, I'm just teasing."

Narrowing his eyes, Blaine huffs and shakes his head. "Whatever."

He can feel Sebastian's gaze on him as he slides his finger around the rim of his cup, feeling slightly uneasy under the sudden attention. A long moment of silence passes in which Blaine continues to avoid the boy's eyes, trying to appear fascinated by the logo on the side of his drink.

"So, how's McKinley?" Sebastian asks finally, leaning back in his chair. Blaine lifts his head and gives a shrug of his shoulders, thankful for the genuine albeit weak attempt at conversation.

"It's...good, I guess."

"You guess?"

Blaine exhales on a long breath and nods. "It's a bit lonely, sometimes. I mean, I love the New Directions, I do. They're all great and they treat me like I'm family, but...they're always going to be Kurt's family first, you know?"

When he peers across the table, Sebastian's head is cocked to one side, an unreadable expression on his face. He appears to be listening intently, though, so Blaine continues.

"I know you guys think it's dumb of me to stay. And, don't get me wrong, I do miss Dalton. A lot," he admits softly, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "But...I think McKinley's good for me. It's forcing me to own up to my actions and move past them, even if it sucks sometimes. And, honestly...I doubt my parents would even let me transfer back. Three switches in four years might be a little bit much."

As he finishes his spiel, he looks up again and finds Sebastian still staring at him, features indecipherable. The two of them stay like that, gazing at each other from across the table, until at last Sebastian formulates a response.

"I get it...I think," he says slowly. "I mean, I still think you shouldn't have transferred in the first place—but that's just my own personal bias. You seem fine. Better than fine, actually. When you came to Dalton a few weeks ago, you just seemed...I don't know. Lost?" Sebastian arches an eyebrow and shrugs. "I'm glad you're okay now. At least, it looks like you are. If you think McKinley is what's best for you, then...so be it."

Blaine tries to cover up his shock at the boy's sudden honesty with a quirk of his lips into a rueful smile. "What happened to trying to coerce me through song and dance?"

"It didn't work the first time, so why try again? I'm not going to beg," a tiny smirk claims Sebastian's lips as he raises a pointed finger, "unless you want me to, of course."

"I'll pass," Blaine answers, snorting and downing another long sip of his coffee. He could get used to this; he and Sebastian just...talking, being friendly. It's almost effortless, the way they are around each other, and Blaine likes it. He likes the simplicity of it all now, after such a complicated past. It's...nice.

Nice.  _Great word choice, Anderson._

"I couldn't resist. Sorry," Sebastian replies, completely unapologetic as his smile widens some. Blaine chuckles and rests his chin in his palm, propping his elbow up on the table.

"It's nice to know you're still the same in some respects," he comments. Sebastian's brows rise at that, eyes twinkling playfully.

"What, you don't like the 'new me?'" He completes the statement with a wave of his hand along his side, hair flopping down into his face as he leans forward and peers at Blaine intently. Blaine swallows, his throat suddenly dry, before struggling to formulate a response.

"I, well—of course I do. Being nice may suck, but it definitely earns you brownie points," he says quickly. Sebastian's eyes narrow ever so slightly, fingers tapping against the table in front of him.

"Then, what is it?" He presses. Blaine flounders for a moment before sighing and dropping his arm, eyes falling to his lap.

"I guess I'm just...not used to it. I'm not really sure how to act around you," he confesses. Sebastian's forehead crinkles abruptly, and he looks genuinely confused.

"How to act?" He repeats, curling his palms over the edge of the table. "Act like you." The  _duh_  is obvious in his tone, and it causes Blaine to roll his eyes.

"Well, yeah, but—"

"But what? Be yourself. Why would I expect you to be any different?"

 _Because you are,_  Blaine's mind supplies, but he represses the thought and attempts to look sheepish. "Right. Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"  _What is this, twenty questions?_

"Um," is all Blaine can come up with, and he can feel the flush creeping up his neck, "because..."

"Hey," Sebastian interrupts quietly, hunching forward and craning his neck so that he can catch the other boy's eye. "Look, I know I've been a dick until now, and that it's probably hard to believe this is genuine, but...I'm trying. I really am. I want us to be friends or whatever. So...you don't need to be weird around me, or anything. This is me, Sebastian Smythe, without the douchey exterior. Alright?"

Forcing himself to nod, Blaine has the sudden urge to stand up and dash out of the shop, far away from this new uncertainty he is experiencing. He needs to think. "I, uh, I should go."

He tries not to take note of the disappointment that washes over Sebastian's features, barely catching the murmur of "yeah, okay" as he quickly rises to his feet and shuffles nervously on the spot.

"I'm sorry, I just—I'll text you or something, okay?"

Sebastian's lips twist into a deprecating smile as he drops his eyes, staring down into his coffee cup. "Sure, Blaine."

Blaine hardly pays attention to the fact that Sebastian actually uses his first name before he practically runs out of the Lima Bean, something funny curling in his gut. It's only once he's made it home and is safely locked away into his bedroom that he goes back over their conversation and what exactly it all had meant.

He promptly feels like an asshole.

*

The days leading up to Christmas have Blaine too busy to do much else besides put in the effort to be the "perfect son" for his parents and get the rest of his shopping done, leaving little time for him to ponder the situation with Sebastian. He receives a text from Kurt the morning of the twenty-third, and all it says is,  _I got into town yesterday, can we talk?_  Blaine contemplates ignoring the message and pretending he had never received it, but he knows that they need the closure, once and for all.

It would be inane at this point to think that they're getting back together; Blaine knows he screwed up royally, and that Kurt probably won't trust him like he did before ever again. But at least they're talking, and Blaine knows Kurt still cares enough that they can be something like friends—hopefully. He hesitantly makes plans for Kurt to come over around mid-afternoon, and then proceeds to panic and pace around his bedroom for the better part of an hour.

There are going to be holes worn through his carpet before he even turns eighteen, at this rate.

When the doorbell finally,  _finally_  rings, Blaine bolts down the stairs and flings himself into the entryway only to discover that he's too late. His mother has beaten him to the door, a tight smile on her face as she no doubt examines Kurt with her critical eyes. Blaine coughs loudly, causing her to glance over her shoulder and open the door wider so that he can greet the boy on the front step. His mother's expression remains pinched, obviously displeased with Kurt's arrival, but Blaine tries to ignore her in favor of smiling weakly at Kurt. "Kurt, hey, come on in."

"You didn't tell me you were expecting company," his mother says sharply. Kurt glances back and forth between the two of them, a small frown on his face as he hesitantly steps into the house. Blaine levels the woman with a pleading look that screams  _not now, please,_  before grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him towards the stairs.

"We won't be long, I swear," he says quickly before tugging the boy up to his bedroom. As they reach the top landing, he releases Kurt's wrist and sighs softly, wiping a palm over his face. "I'm sorry about her."

"They're still being distant?" Kurt asks softly. Blaine shrugs and closes his bedroom door behind them, refusing to answer the question. They're here to talk about  _them,_  not Blaine's parents. Leaning back against the cracked wood, he watches at Kurt perches himself carefully on the edge of Blaine's bed, and the two of them gaze around the room in an uncomfortable silence for a long while before Blaine can't take it anymore and speaks.

"This is it, isn't it?" His voice is low, almost monotone as he hesitantly meets Kurt's eyes across the room. Kurt's mouth opens, and then closes, and then he sighs, ducking his head.

"I- I think it is," he replies softly.

"Kurt..." Blaine pauses, forcing the words past the sudden lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."

"I know," comes the quiet response, before they fall into silence once more.  _So much for a discussion._  But really, what do they have left to talk about? Blaine messed things up, and now, this is the fallout.

"I still love you." He's grasping at straws here, trying to elicit some type of reaction from his now  _ex-_ boyfriend. A shaky exhale can be heard from Kurt, who pushes up to his feet and crosses the room slowly before coming to a stop in front of Blaine.

"I know." No  _me, too._  No  _I'll always care._  Just a basic, worthless,  _I know._  Suddenly, Blaine is blinking back tears, and he quickly spins around to tug the door open, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve as he clears the way for Kurt to make his leave.

"Good luck at NYADA," he whispers, sucking in a deep lungful of air and willing his voice not to shake. Kurt wavers in the doorway for a moment before conjuring up a tiny smile, his head tipping in acknowledgement.

"Thanks," he says honestly, before taking that final step forward and crossing the threshold into the hallway. Blaine watches and forces himself to keep it together, holding his emotions just barely in check. The murmured  _goodbye, Blaine_ that filters his way hits him like a punch to the gut. It's more like Kurt's taking the final step out of Blaine's life.

Which, well, he is.

*

Blaine spends the next few hours with his door locked, ignoring his mother every time she pounds on it in favor of sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow. He realizes that he's being melodramatic, but he can't help it. This has been a long time coming, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. It feels as if his heart has been ripped out of his chest and stomped on, stabbed at, and then run over by a semi-truck before being forced back in place. It doesn't fit right anymore; nothing does.

After too much time spent wallowing in his own self-pity, he does the first thing he can think of: he calls Sebastian.

The call goes to voicemail, so instead he fumbles out a short text message.

_I'm sorry. I know I'm an asshole. I just really need someone to talk to right now._

He never gets a response.

*

The next day is Christmas Eve, which means that Blaine has to paste a smile on his face and act as if everything is right in the world, like he isn't quite literally dying on the inside. His mother is still bitter over the sudden appearance of Kurt the day before, and his father is, well, his father. The two-hour drive to Westerville passes in tense silence, and when they arrive at Blaine's aunt and uncle's house, things don't fare much better. There are meaningless hugs and exclamations of  _nice to see you_  exchanged, but it all passes in a blur. Blaine makes a break for the back porch as soon as his parents become engrossed in a conversation with a family friend, and fumbles his phone out of his pocket, gazing down at the screen expectantly.

Nothing.

Nearly a day since he reached out to Sebastian, and there's been no word back. Blaine doesn't want to think about what that means.

Instead, he takes a seat on the porch steps and rests his elbows on his knees, staring out absently at the backyard. The grass is glistening with frost, as the actual snow is still holding out for some reason, and it causes the yard to have an almost sparkling quality to it. It's pretty, Blaine notes, before looping his scarf more tightly around his neck and gazing up at the sky. He stays out in the cold and just  _thinks_ until his father sticks his head out the back door and calls him inside for dinner, an annoyed edge to his voice. Blaine obeys and takes his seat at the table, smiling politely and eating his share of the food without taking note of the conversation around him. It is only once he hears his name being called that he focuses, gazing over at his aunt, who appears to be addressing him.

"So, Blaine, have you met any nice young ladies yet?"

 _Oh, God, not now._  He awkwardly clears his throat and shoots a glance at his mother, who is watching him expectantly. His father's eyes are narrowed as well, gazing at him pointedly and practically commanding him to say the right thing.

The pressure is suddenly too much.

Steeling himself, Blaine shuts his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. "I just got out of a relationship with my boyfriend of almost two years, so I'm not really looking right now."

The silence at the table would almost be comical if it weren't so  _stifling_.

"He's still going through that phase, Bruce?" His uncle asks snidely, addressing Blaine's father. Blaine pipes in before the man can respond.

"It's not a phase, Uncle Caleb. I'm gay."

His mother's fork clatters loudly as she drops it to her plate, quickly moving to cover up for her son's mistake. "Now, now, Blaine, you don't know that for sure—"

"Actually, mom, I do," he replies, voice raising slightly. "I like guys.  _Not_  girls. Guys. Nothing you say is going to change that."

As he glances around the table, he nearly has to smother a laugh at his surroundings. His aunt has her napkin clutched in her perfectly manicured hand, mouth open in a slight 'o,' while his uncle is gazing furiously back and forth between Blaine's parents. His mother is flushed a deep shade of red, and his father is absolutely  _livid,_  his knuckles gone white as he grips the edge of the dining room table tightly.

"Blaine Anderson, you will  _not_  speak of things like that at this table," his father growls. Tossing his napkin next to his plate and standing up, Blaine shakes his head and starts to move away from the table.

"Sorry to disappoint you,  _dad,_  but this is who I am," he spits, before spinning around and storming towards the front door. His mother screeches out from behind him, begging for him to come back, but he ignores her and allows the door to slam shut rather loudly behind him for added effect.

Only once he's standing on the front stoop does it feel like some of the weight has been lifted from his chest.

*

His father's Volvo is the only car they brought to Westerville, so Blaine simply shoves his hands into his pockets and walks, trudging along the frosty sidewalk with his shoulders hunched. It's  _freezing_  without his jacket, which he conveniently forgot to grab as he made his dramatic exit, so he remains curled in on himself and shivers as the cold air bites into his skin through his thin sweater. He walks like that for blocks, unsure of his current location and without any destination in mind, until he comes across a small park on a street corner. The playground is deserted, so Blaine situates himself on a lone bench and tucks himself into a ball, trying to brace himself against the cold. He stays there for hours, or perhaps only minutes, he isn't positive. All he knows it that he quite possibly just got himself disowned by his parents, it's Christmas Eve, and he is utterly alone.

It's a pleasant realization. Really.

That's when his phone rings.

He struggles to get his cold fingers to cooperate and hit the 'answer' button, raising the device to his ear. "Hello?"

"You're sort of an asshole," is how Sebastian greets him. The relief that washes through Blaine at the sound of the boy's voice is so overwhelming that he could cry.

"Yeah, well, so are you," Blaine retorts, rubbing his free hand against his pant leg in an attempt to gain some feeling back. Sebastian chuckles into the receiver and the sound warms Blaine instantly, a smile spreading across his face.

"Anyway. I wanted to say Merry Christmas. Nearly. How're you?"

"I've been better," Blaine answers honestly, staring down at his white fingertips.

Sebastian's voice takes on a hint of concern at that, tone deepening slightly. "What's wrong?"

"My parents are assholes. But that's nothing new."

"Blaine."

"Yes?"

"What happened?"

The emotionless laugh that leaves Blaine at the question sounds harsh, even to his own ears. "Um. They hate me because I'm gay but pretend like everything's fine and it just  _sucks_ so I finally lit into them. In front of our extended family. At Christmas Eve dinner. And now I'm sitting at some random park without a jacket and I'm pretty sure it's about to start snowing and I'm going to die of hypothermia before I can even rejoice the fact that I bitched out my own parents."

Sebastian is quiet for a long moment, and then murmurs, "where are you?"

"Westerville? I'm not sure." He peers around and finally spots a street sign. "The corner of 36th and Everly. There's a playground."

"I'll be there soon," Sebastian declares, hanging up.

Blaine tucks his hands back into his pockets to wait.

*

"Jesus Christ, Blaine, you probably do have hypothermia."

Blaine lifts his head from where he had been trying to burrow it into his scarf and attempts to smile, his teeth chattering as he does so. Sebastian merely shakes his head and grasps the boy's forearm, helping him into a standing position and looping an arm around his shoulders to tuck him into his side. Blaine immediately presses his face into the warmth that is Sebastian's chest and sighs happily, wedging his chilled fingers into the space between their sides. Sebastian says nothing more and he leads the way to his car, only untangling their bodies in order to help Blaine into the passenger seat. He cranks the heater as soon as they're both inside and the engine is running, and then shrugs out of his coat and offers it over.

"T-thanks," Blaine mumbles, sliding his arms into the sleeves and instantly sinking into its warmth. Sebastian watches him for a long moment before huffing out a chuckle of disbelief.

"You're crazy," he proclaims, before pulling the car away from the curb and starting off down the road. Blaine grins, knowing he must look almost manic with the way his body is trembling.

"A g-good crazy, r-right?"

Sebastian shoots him a pointed look and just reaches out to turn on the radio, the sound of some soft guitar melody filtering through the speakers. Blaine leans back into his seat and shuts his eyes, tucking his face back into his scarf with a soft exhale. The other boy is humming along gently to whatever song is playing, murmured words leaving his lips every now and then. It lulls Blaine into a sort of half-conscious state, his mind only taking note of the music and Sebastian's solid presence at his side, and it's...nice.

He's used that word a lot to describe things with Sebastian.  _Nice._

The car lurches to a stop a few minutes later, jostling Blaine awake, and he blinks wearily, gazing out the window at the looming brick building in the distance. "You spend Christmas at Dalton?" He asks in disbelief, glancing back at Sebastian, who shrugs and steps out of the car before coming around to help him out as well.

"My mom's in Paris and my dad's away on business, so I don't really have a choice. I'm used to it," he explains as he carefully leads Blaine towards the front entrance, palm cupping the boy's shoulder. They silently make their way up the stairs to Sebastian's dorm room, where he directs Blaine to sit on the edge of the bed while he grabs some warmer clothes. Blaine unwinds his scarf from around his neck and shrugs out of Sebastian's coat, taking his time to observe his surroundings as he waits for Sebastian to emerge from the closet. The walls are bare, the room only furnished by a simple wooden desk covered in books, a television in the opposite corner, and the bed that Blaine is currently seated on, lined with a plaid blue comforter.

The whole thing is sort of depressing, and as Sebastian comes back with a stack of clothes in his hands, Blaine asks, "where's your Christmas tree?"

"Nonexistent," he replies, handing a pair of sweats and an old Dalton hoodie to Blaine. "Here, you should change. Your clothes are probably just as freezing as the rest of you."

He turns back around, giving Blaine some semblance of privacy as he heads over to turn on the TV. Blaine quickly shucks his sweater and button down, tugging the hoodie over his head before standing up to slide out of his pants and slip the sweats up over his hips. He has to roll the waist a fair amount of times, and the fabric still pools at his ankles, but he immediately feels warmer, so he tucks his hands into the sleeves of the hoodie and plops back down on Sebastian's bed, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"You didn't have to come get me." He doesn't know why he feels the need to say this, but he does anyway, and Sebastian turns back around with an exasperated look on his face. When he spots Blaine curled up on his bed, though, his throat visibly works as he swallows and his eyes quickly fall back to the ground.

"I sort of did. You could have frozen to death out there."

"I would have been fine," Blaine retorts, though he knows it's not true, not really. Sebastian arches a brow at him and makes his way over towards the bed, coming to a stop in front of Blaine as the TV mutters quietly in the background.

"Sure," he agrees noncommittally, peering down at the other boy with an incomprehensible expression on his face. Blaine gazes up at him in return, his nose wrinkling at the scrutiny.

"What?"

Seeming to shake himself out of his stupor, Sebastian clears his throat and kicks off his boots. "Nothing," he mumbles, dropping down to sit on the bed next to Blaine. "Are you okay?"

Blaine takes a minute to seriously ponder the question before answering. "I officially broke up with Kurt yesterday, and my parents probably hate me even more now, but surprisingly, I'm fine. I mean it."

And he does mean it. Despite how miserable he had felt yesterday, right now he's...fine. It doesn't feel like a part of him is missing, like he lost something important. He doesn't know how the feeling went away so quickly, but he's grateful.

Sebastian glances at him doubtfully but says nothing more, instead maneuvering himself around so that he can lay with his back against the wall, propping a pillow up behind him and setting himself up so that he's facing the television. Blaine watches him uncertainly, still perched on the edge of the mattress, until Sebastian rolls his eyes and pats the spot next to him.

"I won't bite."

Cautiously, Blaine moves to sit next to the other boy, slouching down against a spare pillow and tucking his hands into the pocket of the borrowed hoodie he's wearing. A hesitant line of space separates their bodies, and Blaine tries to stay still in fear of upsetting the balance they've created. A few minutes of uncomfortable silence pass, the only noise coming from the television across from them, and Blaine remains awkwardly tense, darting glances at Sebastian every few seconds. Eventually, the boy catches his eye, and the two of them stare nervously at each other before Sebastian lets out a shaky exhale and reaches for Blaine's arm.

"Jesus Christ, come here," he murmurs, hauling Blaine in close so that they're pressed completely together, the smaller boy tucked beneath his arm and his face pressed to Sebastian's chest. It's a mimic of their position earlier, when Sebastian had first picked Blaine up from the park, but this is even better. Blaine feels warm and safe and like he can finally,  _finally_ relax, so he does. His eyes flutter shut and his fingers find their way to Sebastian's hip, where he curls them in the fabric of his shirt and holds fast, his breath leaving him in one long _whoosh._  The boy is firm and  _real_  beneath him, and Blaine revels in the comfort.

"You're still an asshole," Sebastian comments idly, just as Blaine is tipping over the brink into unconsciousness. His lips curl up anyway, and he gives the boy's hip an absent squeeze before slurring sleepily.

"Nah, but you love me."

Sebastian's arm tightening around him is the only response he needs.

*

He comes to gradually, something solid and warm surrounding him, and he burrows into the comfort of it. There is a voice whispering soothingly in his ear, and a gentle hand carding through his hair, and Blaine really just wants to stay here  _forever._  He can't, though, so he forces his eyes to open and blinks blearily, trying to clear the sleep away. As he regains consciousness, he slowly remembers that he is in Sebastian's room, in Sebastian's bed, in Sebastian's arms. The thought doesn't send him running like it would have months ago; instead, he embraces it and scrubs a hand across his eyes before curling back into the boy's side.

A few more moments pass of the quiet murmuring in his ear, and he realizes with abrupt clarity that Sebastian is  _singing,_  the same song that he had been humming along to in the car last night. His voice is hardly above a whisper, rough with sleep and gravelly in his attempt to keep quiet, but god, it's  _perfect._ Blaine's mouth runs dry at the sound, his stomach clenching up in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. The words are delicate, the boy's breath fanning out over his skin, and Blaine shuts his eyes again so that he can just listen.

 _Hold my head inside your hands_  
_I need someone who understands_  
_I need someone, someone who hears_  
_For you, I've waited all these years_

Blinking his eyes open once more, Blaine slowly lifts his head and props his chin up on Sebastian's chest, the boy's voice trailing off as their eyes meet. Slowly, ever so slowly, his face breaks out into a pleased smile, and the sight sends shivers down to Blaine's toes.

"Merry Christmas," he mumbles, chuckling a bit as his fingers tug at a patch of untamed curls on Blaine's head. Blaine swats at the boy's hand and ducks out of his grip, rolling onto his side and glaring playfully.

"Merry Christmas," he echoes, dropping onto his back with a quiet sigh. He can feel Sebastian's eyes on him, questioning, but he thankfully doesn't say anything more. The two of them remain slumped there for awhile, unspeaking, with Blaine staring out the window and Sebastian staring at him. Suddenly, Blaine scrambles up into a sitting position, his gaze focused raptly outside.

"Sebastian," he exclaims, grinning. "It's snowing."

Sebastian lifts his brows, an amused smile curling on his lips. "Let me guess...you wanna go out there."

Blaine shrugs, staring hopefully out the window. "Maybe?"

"You're like a five year old," Sebastian laughs quietly, climbing off the bed and lifting his arms above his head to stretch out the kinks in his back. "Let's go."

Blaine has to physically restrain himself from dancing on the spot, suddenly feeling absurdly excited at the prospect of going out into the cold. He probably hasn't even recovered from the hours he spent out in the below-zero weather yesterday, but right now, he's beyond caring. It's Christmas, and he's with Sebastian, and it's snowing. What does it matter?

Sebastian lends him an extra jacket, a hat, and some gloves, and the two of them quickly bundle up before heading down the hall and out into the courtyard, which is coated in a fresh white powder. Blaine gives into the urge and wanders out into the open air, tipping his head back and allowing the flakes to gather on his lashes as he closes his eyes. The sound of footsteps approaching, crunching over the frosted cement, causes him to blink his eyes open once more and smile childishly up at Sebastian, whose head is tilted slightly, his expression almost fond. He reaches out and gently tugs Blaine's hat lower down over his ears, gloved fingers brushing over his neck, and the two of them gaze at each other for a long moment, cheeks red from the cold and breath fogging up in the air in front of them.

"Thank you," Blaine says, a bit breathlessly. Sebastian's gaze turns questioning as he cups the side of Blaine's neck, lips pursing slightly.

"Why do you keep thanking me?"

"For putting up with me. Even though I was an asshole."

Sebastian releases a bark of laughter and shakes his head, his hands dropping back to his own sides. "You're ridiculous."

"But you like it," Blaine replies automatically, breath suddenly catching in his throat as that unreadable look crosses Sebastian's face again.

"Yeah, I kind of do," he admits softly, spinning around and tilting his head back to peer upwards. Blaine watches him closely, fingers playing with his coat sleeve before dropping his gaze to the ground. This... _this_  is Sebastian. Not the "old" one, or the "new" one, just  _Sebastian,_  pure and unadulterated and vulnerable. The realization slams into Blaine as he thinks back on their conversation in the Lima Bean, all of it suddenly coming together in his mind.

_You seem fine. Better than fine, actually._

_Act like you._

_But what? Be yourself. Why would I expect you to be any different?_

_This is me, Sebastian Smythe, without the douchey exterior._

He's spent an inordinate amount of time wondering just what it is about Sebastian that makes him feel so at ease, and the answer has been sitting right in front of him the entire time. He was  _real_  around Blaine, and Blaine was real around him in return. Sebastian  _understands him._  They're kindred spirits, in a way. Between their families, and people's preconceived notions of them...even back when Sebastian had spent his days pestering Kurt and trying to sabotage the New Directions, he had always been...different when it was just the two of them. And now, after this morning...Blaine  _gets it._

_He gets it._

"Sebastian."

Sebastian's head drops down and his gaze settles on Blaine, brows furrowing as he peers through the falling snow. "Yeah?"

Blaine's steps are shaky as he nears the other boy, boots leaving crisp footprints in his wake. He pauses a few inches in front of Sebastian and nervously adjusts his scarf before speaking. "You asked me a few weeks ago, at the Lima Bean- if I liked the new you. And I told you..."

"You weren't sure how to act around me," Sebastian finishes for him, forehead crinkling. "What about it?"

"I didn't really give you a yes or no answer," Blaine explains, faltering for a moment before closing the rest of the distance between them and tilting his head back to meet Sebastian's eyes. "Truth is...I don't like the 'new' you so much. Or even the 'old' you."

Sebastian's face drops, expression shuttering closed as he goes to turn away. "In that case—"

"Wait, wait, I'm not done," Blaine rushes out, latching onto Sebastian's wrist. "What I was going to  _finish_  saying is that I just like  _you._  All of you. The good, the bad—all of it. And I know that I technically just broke up with Kurt, like, two days ago, but you're sort of amazing and I  _really_  want to kiss you right now but I'm afraid that it's too soon and..."

"Oh my god, Blaine, shut up," Sebastian mumbles, tucking his fingers beneath the boy's chin and tipping it upwards so that he can cover his mouth with his own and it's  _perfect._ Sebastian's lips are warm and soft and his gloved hands cup Blaine's face firmly, holding him in place as he draws his teeth gently over the swell of his bottom lip. Blaine's eyes close and he practically melts against the taller boy, fingers grappling at his coat to keep him pressed in a close. After what seems like forever, they pull apart, cheeks flushed as Sebastian drops his forehead onto Blaine's own and just fucking  _grins._

It might be the most beautiful thing Blaine's ever seen.

"So, you broke up with Kurt two days ago," Sebastian begins, tracing Blaine's jaw with his thumb, "but it  _is_  Christmas, so I'm thinking we can just figure everything out later. Yeah?"

"Good plan," Blaine breathes, lifting himself up on his toes to plant another light kiss to the corner of Sebastian's mouth. "Besides, I don't have anywhere else to be."


End file.
